Learn
by Alphard
Summary: Marauders, set fifth year. Remus finds himself with three Animagi on his hands, and then faces an even stranger discovery: that James and Sirius and Peter have, just perhaps, figured out how to think.


_Note:_

Sorry. It's been a very long time. I'm still around, though, and there should be a second fic to follow this one soon.

Marauders, set fifth year.

For Cadenza. Because she bears with my utterly unreasonable obsession with Remus and Severus, and finds nice things to say. Come to think of it, she bears with me, period.

Finished 02 January 2005

* * *

**Learn**

Remus noticed the dog the moment he stepped into the dormitory. It was huge, black, and hard to miss, sitting as it was on his own bed watching him placidly with strange blue eyes. He eyed it with some suspicion, trying not to make sudden movements; in his presence dogs tended to either take off yelping or try to attack him. This one looked as though it could bite his head off.

It did not, and after some time Remus began to feel foolish. He would be late for Astronomy if he didn't get his textbook, which was lying on the nightstand next to his bed, and being stared at by a huge dog in his own dormitory didn't sound like a particularly inspired excuse even to himself. And James, Sirius, and Peter had chosen to disappear mysteriously at dinner, effectively stranding him.

Remus sighed and inched towards the dog. If he lost a limb, he thought darkly, whoever had brought the thing back would _pay._

A couple minutes later he had the book and all his body parts still in place, although the dog was still staring at him expectantly. Remus gingerly put his hand out and patted its shaggy head. This sort of thing didn't normally happen in real life, but the Gryffindor dormitory had probably seen stranger things, and he was running late. _I'll ask James or Sirius about it later._

He was about to leave when it occurred to him that he had seen that dog before, blue eyes and black fur, but blue wasn't a common eye colour on a dog, surely he would remember -

No, it was the colour combination that was familiar. In fact he saw it all the time, on -

Remus blinked. Then he whirled, glaring wildly at empty space. "Sirius Black! I give you five seconds to get out and stop this joke, it's not funny! James! Peter!"

Several things happened at once. There was the sound of muffled argument before both James and Peter appeared, James clutching his Invisibility Cloak, both of them talking. Remus picked out the words 'not my fault' and 'I _told_ you it was a bad idea' and 'blame Sirius', but the shimmering air in the direction of his bed was distracting him.

_Oh. No._

Remus dropped his textbook.

.

"You're crazy," Remus fumed, pacing back and forth along a short line between James and Peter, who were still standing, and Sirius, who was still sitting on his bed. He was vaguely aware that they were all late for class now, but it seemed important to establish this. "All of you. I spend three years telling you how stupid and dangerous - "

"Remus," Peter said patiently, "we've _done_ it. And we're still here."

It was also vitally important that he keep waving his arms in the air, because if he didn't do anything with them he'd find his fingers round Peter's throat for sounding so _reasonable_ when it very definitely wasn't, although Remus was having trouble explaining why.

He scrabbled for something to say, and then remembered. "Yes, and now what? Play out an Enid Blyton plotline? Just because you mean well, everything's going to be all right? A stag and a dog and a rat. And me, the wolf. I bet you've even prepared your own cute nicknames. What'll it be? Misters Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? It's _not that simple._"

"Why can't it be that simple?" Sirius asked.

"Because - " _Because Professor Dumbledore trusted me to understand the rules, and follow them. Because this makes things so complicated, means so many new secrets that need to be kept. Because there was no need. Because I have no control over this._ Remus opened his mouth and shut it again; it was too much to be said and too much to be understood and Sirius, in his uncomplicated manner, would slice through the tangle of consequences in a way that Remus could not accept.

Sirius saved him with his impatience. "We did this for you."

He sounded hurt. Remus felt his anger flare; Sirius had no _right_ to sound hurt, as though Remus was the one letting people down. "I didn't ask you to do this." It made sense now, the incident six months ago when Professor McGonagall had taken him aside and asked him if he knew anything about what James and Sirius were doing, Professor Absinthe had said they were working on something strange, a potion that resembled but wasn't quite the Polyjuice Potion. And a month back Remus had woken in the middle of the night thinking he had heard hooves on stone before deciding that this was too strange even for the Gryffindor dormitory, and chalked it up to sleep-addled imagination.

The magnitude of what had been going on behind his back made his head hurt. And it was so stupid; now he had to struggle with his conscience because part of him was eagerly agreeing with Sirius' nonsense - _why_ can't _it be that simple?_

Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone? "I didn't need you to make life difficult for me."

"Remus, we didn't mean it like that." James, trying to play peacemaker, unsuccessfully. Sirius ignored him, frowning. "Is _that_ how you see me? Just making life difficult for you?"

Remus shut his eyes, dizzy with frustration. "_Yes,_ Sirius." He expected to be hit for that, and he opened his eyes to prepare for the blow. But it was Sirius who rocked back on his heels, blinking in vague puzzlement before saying, softly, "Okay. I won't do it again."

He walked out of the dormitory. Remus made no move to stop him.

"You shouldn't have done that," James eventually said.

_I know._ Remus unclenched his hands and breathed in, suddenly tired. "I'll find him," he said wearily. "I'll make it up to him. You go to class first, I'll see you later."

He followed after Sirius.

Remus turned up for Astronomy half an hour later breathless, conspicuously alone and without an explanation. Sirius failed to make an appearance throughout the lesson, and Professor Sinistra deducted forty points from Gryffindor.

.

Remus always claimed to be unable to understand Sirius. If it helped, Sirius couldn't understand Remus, either. He was strange, quiet but not timid - not like Peter - always in thought but unwilling to explain what it was he thought so much about, and Sirius sometimes wanted to ask him outright what it was he wanted, whose side he was on.

Remus seemed to alternate between needing very much and needing almost nothing and he wasn't in the habit of making requests, so Sirius ran in blind circles around him trying to guess, trying to learn. He never thought about why he did this; Remus was his friend and this was the done thing, it was what he was supposed to do.

Except Remus never specified the boundary between a harmless joke and a vicious prank, or when breaking school rules was all right and when it became irresponsible and inconsiderate. He might smile at something and lose his temper at something else, and Sirius never knew what it was he had done wrong until it was too late.

And now this.

_It took us three years to get here - three years of reading and failed experiments and nearly getting caught, and this is how it ends?_

With accusations of immaturity and not understanding, and no recognition of how much it had taken; after all Remus hadn't asked them to do it in the first place. It wasn't _fair,_ to have spent so much time and effort, to have been proud of getting it done in the end, only to be told that it had never been necessary and would not be appreciated.

Sirius found that he couldn't make himself speak to Remus, and so he didn't.

.

Their little group had split down the middle with Remus on one side and Sirius on the other, while Peter and James tried desperately to bring them back together before finally giving in, so that Peter kept Remus company and James talked to Sirius.

Remus knew that he should not be doing this, it had nothing to do with Sirius Black, but Sirius liked explanations, demanded them like they were air and water, and Remus had none to offer him. It was easier to keep things like this, ignoring the fact that now he had three Animagi on his hands and didn't know what to do with them. He would make it up to Sirius when he figured everything out, Remus promised himself. It would be all right soon.

They'd had some crackpot idea of keeping him company during full moons. It was something at once wonderful and horrible. Remus didn't know which he thought it was.

It took three days for Sirius to wander up to his table in the library while Peter and James were off at Runes class, sit himself down without invitation, and ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Remus looked up from his work. "Why am I doing what?"

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm not," Remus said lightly, putting down his quill.

"You're doing a damn good impression of it."

"Sirius." It was all he could say. Sirius, with his open face and clear blue eyes, disarmingly ingenuous. Remus sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Sirius, why do you always have to make things so complicated?"

Sirius blinked. "How have I done that?"

"By - " Remus spread his hands on the table. He would try and fail to explain and Sirius would try and fail to understand, but then at least no one could say that they hadn't tried. "I've always done the same thing. Every month. No one has to come for me, to lock me up. Professor Dumbledore assumes I know enough not to break this rule. You're asking me to give this up."

"I'm not."

"Yes you _are._ You and James and Peter. Can you guarantee that nothing will happen? And you know it took less than two years for the three of you found out about me. Do you think Madam Pomfrey won't notice that I'm not getting hurt anymore?"

"That's a _good_ thing," Sirius said, obstinately.

"It's also a good thing that I'm safely shut away in the Shack. For other people. You keep making the mistake of romanticising lycanthropy. I have no control over what I do on full moon nights, Sirius. I can survive on the current arrangement; I don't need or want this Animagus thing. Can you _understand_ this?"

Sirius was watching him, head tilted, expression impassive. "Remus?"

"What?"

"Why do you always assume that you can't trust any of us?"

It was Remus' turn to blink. "I - "

"You hate this idea," Sirius said, quietly, "because you're completely out of it. When the most planning and control will be needed, you won't be supplying any of it. You don't want to risk everything on _our_ judgment."

"That's not true."

"We can see what you're like afterwards, it's impossible to romanticise lycanthropy while watching Pomfrey patch you up." Sirius paused. "Remus, you treat us like children. Maybe you were right to do that three years ago, when we didn't know anything. But we can learn. Me and James, we thought it would be easy to become Animagi, simply because we were the ones doing it and we'd never yet seen a spell we couldn't do.

"It took us three years. I won't say it's made us _humble,_ exactly - I know you think that's hilarious - " He smiled, briefly, "but we've had to do a lot of things, cover up and cover for a lot of mistakes."

Remus opened his mouth. Then he closed it. All he could think, obscurely, was that Sirius was being serious, _finally,_ not just making a bad pun. It was infinitely stranger than whatever he was actually saying.

"You have a mind like a corkscrew, Remus, and I know you're more meticulous than either me or James. But with the two of us and Peter as well, I think it might be okay. You saw me the other day, you know I stand a chance against you in werewolf form. And James makes a dirty great stag." Sirius tapped his nails lightly on the table. "We _planned_ this, Remus. We actually think. Despite all appearances. It's not nearly as cracked as it seems to you."

He spread his palms flat, leaning forward. "Give us a chance, Remus. We'll try once, and not go anywhere. Just to see how it works out. All right?"

Somebody else leaned over them. Remus stared up at Madam Pince. "Boys, this is a _library_. Mister Black, go elsewhere if you can't keep quiet. Mister Lupin, I'm surprised at you."

Sirius grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am, going elsewhere in a moment." He turned to Remus, mouthing the words. _Just once._

Then he was off, black robes flying out behind him as he walked.

Remus picked up his quill and looked down at his essay. _Why can't it be that simple, really?_

He'd had answers prepared for that, once, but for the life of him he couldn't remember them now.

.

It took two months to make it work.

The first time they tried it, Remus woke up in the morning in some panic to find James sitting next to him placidly explaining that Sirius was all right and Peter was surprisingly good at magical first aid, _actually._ After this failed to earn Remus' undying admiration and respect James owned up somewhat shamefacedly: they'd forgotten about canines and all that alpha male stuff, and for all his size Padfoot still wasn't quite used to four legs and teeth and wasn't much of a fighter.

"Sirius told me you'd learnt how to think," Remus replied. "Evidently he was wrong. Don't _do_ this sort of thing to me, James, I don't want to die of heart trouble before I graduate."

He pulled the blankets over his head when James tried to reason with him, and fell asleep that night in his bed in Gryffindor Tower the same way, ignoring Sirius' frantic pleading.

To his own chagrin Remus eventually let himself be persuaded into spending the intervening three weeks helping James construct and reconstruct straw figures for Padfoot to take apart and keeping a lookout while Padfoot played dodge with the Whomping Willow and Wormtail froze the tree whenever Padfoot tripped over a paw he hadn't known was there.

Sirius went through all of it smiling broadly, echoing the magic phrase whenever he could, like a refrain: _I'll learn, Remus, I'll learn. I promise I'll learn._

James, ever resourceful, suggested enrolling Padfoot in the dogfighting competitions which the Hog's Head organised illegally. Remus threw a fit and spent some time trying to convince himself that they couldn't be _that_ stupid, really. After a while he decided that he just didn't want to know, and settled for thanking whatever divine presences there might be for the fact that he continued to see Sirius in one piece every morning.

The next month Sirius sat at Remus' bedside, sporting a huge bruise over his left eyebrow and grinning nonetheless. "Hey. I won." He paused. "I ruined my dashing good looks for you, Moony, you'd better not back out now."

"Don't bet on it. There's this thing the Muggles have," Remus told him drowsily. "Plastic surgery. Ask Lily about it."

Over dinner, after James had had a chance to discreetly question Lily Evans and, moreover, tried to date her while he was at it, Sirius regarded Remus with some concern. "You're not backing out. It was a joke, wasn't it?"

Remus studied his plate for some time. "Yes," he finally said, softly. "It was a joke."

_End

* * *

Notes:_

I don't really like writing Marauders. Maybe I don't have enough skill at it, but it always seems to end so... happily. Very Enid Blyton. And, try as I might, I can't seem to change the general themes. In my opinion Sirius always needs to learn. Remus always needs to figure out how to let go.

Remus' issue with control is actually central, and it is important to realise that his gesture at the end is a relinquishing of it. But I have no idea how obvious this is.

I consider Remus' reasons for not liking the Animagus idea perfectly valid. Among other things, I really wouldn't trust myself in James', Sirius' and Peter's fifteen-year-old hands. Relenting in the end was very understandable and remarkably forgivable, but nevertheless unwise.

I don't think James actually did take Sirius to enrol in a pit fight, but it's the kind of thing he would_ suggest._


End file.
